The Final Gift
by Windimere Wellen
Summary: Patrick Sheppard is dying. His last wish is to know what happened to his son John before its too late - and he receives and unexpected visitor with a gift. This is a very old story that has been updated and re-written.


Notes: This was my first dabble into Atlantis, though I'm a long time fan of the show. I wrote this years and years ago and have recently updated it. My time line might be slightly off here when I mention Elizabeth's death…so I apologize in advance, we'll call it creative license – it could be considered non-canon or canon depending on how you feel about it.

This is just a drabble into John's family – primarily his father.

Your thoughts are welcome.

Lady Winter

Patrick Sheppard stared down at the stack of papers sitting on the tray on his lap. He'd dealt with a lot in the last few weeks, but this was still not what he had been expecting.

He looked down again at the document – a thick Non-Disclosure Agreement. He'd seen a few of them in his day, but as he sat on his death bed – literally – he hadn't expected to be presented with one again. He glanced up at the man standing in the corner of the room, staring out the window that gave a beautiful view of the stables and the fields where the horses were kept.

Patrick narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing his visitor – an Air Force General – dressed in his formal dress blues, thick with honors pinned on over his heart, hair a distinguished gray. General Jack O'Neill stood there, patiently, as if telling Patrick he could wait until he died before he left – and Patrick thought dryly that there was a chance he wouldn't have to wait too long.

Patrick Sheppard was dying. Liver failure they told him. Acute and immediate. They gave him weeks to live. Some days were good – he barely felt anything and other days were bad – so bad that he didn't know how he wasn't dead already. So, being the calculating and driven man that he was, he'd put his last few weeks to good use – he put all of his affairs in order and had spent time finishing grooming his eldest son, David, to finish taking over the family business – Sheppard Holdings. And then he'd very quietly started searching for his youngest son – John.

Years ago, he had very clearly and very angrily told John that he didn't approve of his career in the Air Force, and that he thought he was throwing his life away – he'd told the brash, head-strong young man that reminded Patrick a little too much of himself, that he was basically out of the family. He had practically disowned his own son – all but said the words.

Time changes a lot of things, and as the years crawled by, Patrick had niggling doubts about his brutal ultimatum. So he'd gone about tracking down his wayward child – even if he hadn't really known what he'd do when he found out what John was up to. It had been like a little guilty pleasure – using his connections to occasionally look in on John and make sure he was safe and well.

Patrick had assumed that John would eventually wash out of the Air Force – after all, nothing seemed to hold John's attention long. He always wanted to go faster and harder – always wanted to be more challenged. He'd been the only troubled A+ student in a private high school – the product of extreme intelligence and no way to channel all of his energy. Everything John applied himself to; he seemed to master, grow bored of, and leave in ruins. Patrick had seen it time and time again – boy scouts, math league, undergrad, Mensa, and marriage to a beautiful and interesting senator's daughter. Considering the pattern, it wouldn't have come as a shock to Patrick to open the door and find his son, standing on his doorstep, finished with the US Air Force.

Patrick had never been ashamed to admit that he had always held out hope that this would happen. Sheppard Holdings was a billion-dollar international company that needed a skilled hand to run. Dave grasped the business side of it so well that it was like he was born to be a CEO – but Patrick knew that if John would just join his brother, they would be unstoppable. John had always been driven – but he was also smart – and that would go a long way in making sound decisions – and he was charming. Dave was good with customers and board members, but he still lacked charisma – he was just another business man – but John could captivate a whole room with a smile and a story – he was authentic, and people liked authentic.

So Patrick had waited for the day that his prodigal son would return, but instead, all he discovered was John climbing through the ranks and distinguishing himself. On the rare occasions that his wild-haired son did return home, the visits always ended in arguments because Patrick couldn't keep his anger and pride in check – something he realized now that he was facing the end of his life. And John had argued back too – but as time wore on, he was calmer, controlled and ever so passionate about what he did and why he did it. It was then that Patrick noticed a change in the way Dave regarded his brother. Although he knew Dave believed, as he himself did, that John had abandoned them for his own selfish pursuits, it appeared he was somewhat inspired and jealous of his younger brother and the purpose that John had seemingly found.

Then, John had stopped coming home and began accepting more frequent and more dangerous assignments. Patrick had learned from John's now ex-wife, Nancy, that he was heavily involved in special ops – and thus he also found that information on his son began to dry up. For months, he heard nothing and no one could tell him anything, and he worried more than he thought he would about where his son was. Then one night he'd gotten a call from a friend in a senate oversight committee that had news on John – he'd disobeyed a direct order and had been relegated to McMurdo, flying a chopper in the cold wasteland. There was no information on what order had been disobeyed or just what John had done, and Patrick felt the old anger and disappointment well up inside of him. He just couldn't believe that John had once again thrown something else away. Patrick may not have approved of John's career choice, but he did expect his son to do well and not embarrass the family.

Months went by and his anger kept him from checking on John. Then, one day after Patrick had come across a family photo while cleaning out an old filing cabinet in his office at the ranch, he had been struck with a wave of nostalgia, and picked up the phone to call in a few markers to check on his wayward son. He realized abruptly that his anger had a cost. No one knew where John was – or if they did, they would not tell his father. He was no longer stationed in McMurdo, but no one could tell Patrick where he'd been reassigned to. The only information he could get was that John was still in the Air Force, and that any communication for him should be directed to Peterson Air Force Base.

Patrick was never one to be stonewalled, especially when he thought money and influence could get him whatever he wanted, so he pushed the envelope and went about getting information on John anyway he could. He was willing to pay whoever whatever to get more information – and he was incensed that the government thought they could just make his son disappear. He was shocked when that got him nowhere.

About a month after his last inquiries had resulted in nothing, on a cool Saturday in October, he saw a black sedan rolling up the driveway, and out of it emerged two Air Force officers. At first, Patrick's heart was in his throat, but they didn't carry a demeanor of sorrow and respect that he thought they should have if they were coming to tell him his wayward son was dead. Instead, they politely told him with thinly veiled threats that the US Government wanted him to stop asking questions about Major Sheppard – and if he didn't, he could very well be putting his son's life in danger and the safety of the country at risk. The revelation was almost enough to shock him into just agree, but in his own dignified way, he had begged them to give him more information. Patrick got no where - all they would tell him was that John was alive. He'd stood in the driveway for a while after they'd left, not wanting to admit how shaken to the core he was.

Not long after, Dave, who had apparently been doing his own digging unbeknownst to his father, got a similar visit that he finally shared with Patrick. Neither man seemed ready to admit that suddenly they were frightened for the missing Sheppard, so both buried their feelings and went about life as usual, though Patrick could tell it was taking a strain on David.

As in all things, time went by and years began to pass, it grew to be a part of life. The government had made it clear that they weren't to be trifled with, so Patrick never again requested information regarding his son. The threat of arrest and litigation had come in the written from as well. Still, once a month, he would call Peterson, requesting to leave a message for Major Sheppard. Dutifully, the Private on the other end would take the message – and never once did he ever receive a response.

But when he'd found out he was dying, Patrick couldn't resist any longer. He deeply regretted what had come between himself and John. He missed his wild, free-spirited child. He had begun to grieve deeply at the realization that he had destroyed the chance to know and love his youngest, all because of pride and unmet expectations.

Patrick Sheppard had thrown caution to the wind, uncaring if the government came after him with only weeks to live, and he dug into finding out anything about John that he could, desperate to try to see his son one last time before death. He pulled in every favor he ever had and spent more money than he probably should have, but to no avail, until early in the afternoon, Dave had come up to his father's room, a curious and fearful look on his face.

"There's an Air Force General here to see you," he said, his voice a mix of awe and concern. Instantly, Patrick had sent Dave back down to get him. He sat, propped up in his bed, a makeshift tray-desk over his legs, eyes glued on the door, his hands shaking badly – which he tried to tell himself was from the medication. Then, a slim, tall man filled the doorway, hat in his hand, a lopsided smile on his face that reminded Patrick so much of John that it made his chest hurt.

"Mr. Sheppard? I'm General O'Neill – but you can call me Jack. I see you've been pulling out all the stops looking for John," he had said, and Patrick knew instantly that not only did this man know where John was, but that he was personally acquainted with his son.

"Yes – I have been. I know you people told me not to – but I'm dying, and to be honest, I don't care what you want or what you could do to me – I just want to see my son before it's my time," Patrick said, a hard edge in his voice, but he opted for honesty, because he had a feeling the man standing in front of him was more likely to respond to that.

"In that case," the general said, stepping further into the room and coming close to the bed without an invitation, "…I'll need you to sign these," he finished, producing from seemingly nowhere an inch-thick stack of papers.

Patrick had stared at shock down at the neatly typed government non-disclosure agreement and the general had moved a few paces away, staring out the window at the horses, seemingly unbothered by Patrick's sudden silence. Patrick didn't know why he hesitated. He couldn't be sure if it was just indignation that a dying man should have to swear to take some government secret to his very near grave, or that the wording under his fingertips threatened lifetime imprisonment for breaking the vow, or if it was the fact that when he signed the papers he would finally know where John was after all these years and what deep dark secret the government had him involved in.

"If you don't sign it, I can't tell you anything," the general said, the timbre of his voice carrying a certain curiosity with it.

It was enough to snap Patrick out of his reverie, and he seized the pen, willing his hand to be steady and he signed with a flourish without fully reading the forty or so pages – something he had never done in his entire life. Wordlessly, he pushed the stack a few inches towards the General.

Jack O'Neill arched one eyebrow, but returned to the bed long enough to pick up the papers. Then he began without preamble.

"I know that you would like to see John, but that's impossible at this time…" he started to say before Patrick cut him off.

"Then why did I just sign those conspiracy papers?" Patrick demanded indignantly, feeling his ire rising.

The general held out one hand placatingly.

"You can't see him, because he's in another galaxy. But I can tell you about him," the general promised and Patrick stared at him for a moment, his mind racing over the word 'galaxy.'

"Did you just say another galaxy?" he questioned briefly, wondering how things had come to this, shock evident in his voice.

"Yes," the general said, stepping closer again, eyes boring into Patrick. "I did." Patrick couldn't quite put his finger on the 'why,' but he knew that the general wasn't lying, despite how farfetched his claim sounded.

"John – my son – the helicopter pilot – the special forces operative – the Major with the black mark on his record is in another galaxy?" he asked scathingly, not meaning for any of the words to come out that way, but old habits died hard and he still couldn't reconcile what was going on.

The general frowned down at him in a disapproving way that made Patrick, a man who was cowed by no one; want to crawl under the coverlet that kept his legs warm and hide his head. Instead of speaking at first though, General O'Neill grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it over towards the bed, facing it the wrong way and sitting on it, so that his arms rested on the chair back.

"You don't know much about your son, do you Mr. Sheppard?" he asked casually, and Patrick was about to respond with a burning reply when he realized there had been no condemnation in Jack O'Neill's voice.

Patrick felt instantly ashamed. "No, I'm afraid I don't," he admitted sheepishly after a long moment – and the words were hard to say.

O'Neill cracked a slight smile. "Well, the Colonel does seem to be a private man," he remarked in an honest attempt to ease Patrick's discomfort, but the elder Sheppard was caught up by his words.

"I'm sorry, did you just say John is a Colonel?" he asked, a warm feeling that he abstractly recognized as pride suddenly blossoming in his chest. How had his son with a black mark on his record end up as a Colonel?

And here, Jack O'Neill smiled like a proud father, and Patrick felt like someone had stabbed him through the gut. The man in front of him obviously had a soft spot for John, and despite his comment earlier about John being private, he had a good feeling that this General knew his son better than he did in every way. And he was very clearly proud of John. Jealousy and regret turned to a cold ball in his stomach.

"Lieutenant Colonel actually," Jack admitted, " – but soon to be a full bird Colonel if things ever calm down enough for us to have a ceremony." The last part he said wearily, as if he was involved in a full-scale war, which given just a few sentences, Patrick realized could be true.

"I don't understand. The last thing I'd heard, John had been sent to McMurdo for disobeying orders and…wasn't exactly in good graces with anyone. Then a few years ago he just up and disappeared and since then, I haven't heard a word. I…didn't even know if he was alive," he said, the last part coming out a bit broken – it was the first time he'd voiced aloud his fear that John was dead.

The general looked at him with a look of pity that was underscored by something that almost said 'that's your own fault moron.'

"Why don't I start from the beginning then?" Jack asked, and Patrick found himself nodding. "But remember, this is for your ears only. Your son – your other son – David – isn't to know about any of this." Patrick cringed a little, knowing that it was David who really deserved to be hearing this – David who had been hiding his concern and worry for his younger brother all along – not their father who had been the one to drive John away. None the less, he nodded emphatically – he couldn't lose this opportunity for any reason.

"Well it all started when your son disobeyed orders in Afghanistan and took his Blackhawk back into a battle zone to rescue three of his team who were stranded behind enemy lines…"

And then Patrick Sheppard learned more about his baby boy than he'd known in nearly thirty years. It turned out that John had managed to rescue all three of his team, although one man hadn't survived, and all though the Air Force had recognized his reasoning and his heroism, he had still disobeyed a direct order. It would have normally been enough to drum him right out of the service, but because of his past exemplary service and the fact that he'd saved two lives and returned the helicopter undamaged as well as surrendering immediately and pleading guilty, he had been spared both court martial and discharge. There were still repercussions – he'd reassigned to McMurdo, where it was generally assumed he'd be out of the reach of trouble.

Once there, his son had settled in, happy for the break to deal with his own personal demons. He spent time flying scientists and military personnel from McMurdo to a secret research facility, and one of his passengers had been the General himself. On that day, John had saved both of their lives when they came under what the General termed "friendly alien fire" and in the process of the day it had accidentally been revealed that he had a very special and unique gene that O'Neill called ATA. The explanation about aliens called the Ancients who had once dwelled on earth and mixed with the population stunned Patrick and he felt like he was sitting in a movie theatre, watching a science fiction film. The long and short of it turned out that not only did John have the gene, but unsurprisingly enough to Patrick, he was a natural at using it in a way the Expedition leader had never seen. And she wanted him instantly. For an expedition to another galaxy.

O'Neill had explained that they had discovered a lost city – conveniently called Atlantis – on another world in the Pegasus galaxy, and through a device called the Stargate (that in itself took some time to explain), the joint science and military expedition could travel there in mere seconds. The hitch was that there was no guarantee what they would find on the other side and that there was a good chance it was a one-way trip. At that information, Patrick found himself swallowing hard, both with fear for his son and with anger – that John thought he could just go to another galaxy, maybe to never return without so much as a word to either himself or David – was both heart-rending and disappointing.

The thoughts raced through his mind and Patrick realized after a moment he wasn't angry with John – he was furious with himself. After all, the last conversation he'd had with his son was particularly brutal and Patrick had basically implied he never wanted to see John again. And that had been a few years before this crazy trip to another planet. How bad had it been, for his son to feel like he couldn't even say goodbye to his only family?

Patrick forced himself to snap back to the story O'Neill was telling. The general explained that for a little over a year, they heard nothing from Atlantis or the expedition. Fearing the worst, a newly built space ship (Patrick still marveled at that) was dispatched for the long journey to the Pegasus Galaxy to find out what had happened to the missing team. It turned out that they arrived just in time, because the city was under siege by a frightening race of aliens that fed on human life energy and culled humans like wolves did to sheep.

Apparently for that year, his son had been there, fighting against that enemy all along. It turned out that in the first few days, the expedition's military commander had been killed and John – his John – had successfully taken the lead of the military contingent on the base and had protected the city and its occupants, to the point of being prepared to sacrifice his own life by flying into an enemy ship with a nuclear bomb. Patrick wished he could say he was shocked – wished that this bit of information would be more of a surprise – but it wasn't.

The General continued on, explaining the ability to then sporadically communicate with Earth and John's promotion to Lieutenant Colonel. With pride in his voice, Jack O'Neill told Patrick how John and a mix of the scientists and his own team had returned, once again against orders, to Atlantis to save it from frightening aliens called Replicators, and in the process, also saved the General's life. Patrick expected O'Neill to say John and his comrades had been punished, but instead, they'd been sent back to Atlantis, and O'Neill mentioned personally giving John a medal of honor for his actions.

Patrick was floored as the General shared some other stories and marveled that his son oversaw such a large operation – and felt a thrill of fear as O'Neill explained how his son has basically saved Earth and all her people. Slowly, a feeling was building in his chest - pride – he felt it welling up inside of him and he hadn't wanted to feel that way about John in a long time, but he welcomed it now. Despite his best efforts at sabotaging John, his son had become the intelligent, loyal and well-respected person that he'd always known himself to be. His son – John Robert Sheppard – Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force, highly decorated hero of the United States – highly decorated hero of Earth. Suddenly, Patrick Sheppard was crying. He could feel the wet tracks of tears on his face, and realized he hadn't cried since his wife had died – and he didn't even care that a decorated General was sitting only a few feet away from him.

"Can you…tell me anything more about him?" he asked when the General finally stopped. O'Neill looked at him uncertainly, like he didn't know if he should grant the request. Patrick balled his fists. "Does…does he still like Johnny Cash?" he asked, hoping to prompt the man in front of him.

He was rewarded by a quirk of Jack's lips. "I believe he does – I saw a requisition for a Johnny Cash poster for one Colonel Sheppard a few years back when we were shipping out some much need amenities to Atlantis," he said, and paused.

Patrick gave him an imploring look, hoping for more. It seemed that Jack must have made a decision, and then told him about John's team - his best friends. A too smart physicist and two aliens who all seemed willing to follow him to the grave if necessary. And then, haltingly, O'Neill told him about a woman named Elizabeth Weir, the original expedition leader, who had died just recently. Without so much as saying so, O'Neill mentioned how close John and Dr. Weir had been and Patrick knew instantly that Jack knew and understood that something more than professional like and understanding had been between the two commanding officers. "Your son took her death very hard," O'Neill added soberly and he had a far-off look in his eye, as if he knew exactly how John felt having to hide one's affections from everyone.

Quickly, O'Neill changed the subject, bringing up John's ever-love of surfing and how a floating city had provided him with hours of entertainment, and mentioned the thousands of golf balls that must be lost in the sea off one of the city's piers.

Patrick felt a profound sense of loss as he listened. John had surfed as a teenager – something Patrick had considered silly and dangerous with no point - and golfing had been the one thing that he had shared with his father – but Patrick had ruined all of that by too often trying to push and mold John while they were out on the greens.

"Did he… I mean I…" For a man always in control of the situation, Patrick felt laid bare and unable to even form coherent words. "I left messages for him – at Peterson…" he said, trailing off. "Does he know that?"

O'Neill looked hesitant, and then slowly shook his head negatively. "No, I'm sorry. After you were warned to cease trying to locate or contact your son, all of your messages were handed over to homeland security, and are probably in a marked box someplace in a warehouse," he said apologetically. "It might have been different if John had listed you on any of his forms, but when there's nothing about next of kin…" he trailed off, but the message was clear. John might have gotten his communications if he'd listed a father on his paperwork. But he hadn't. Patrick could have been angry, but it was pointless – he'd driven John away and prevented David from bridging the gap. For all the world, it certainly appeared that John had no family.

"Then…he doesn't even know I'm dying," Patrick uttered, somehow relieved. Because if John had known he was dying and now had the ability to at least communicate with Earth via the data streams that O'Neill had told him about and the semi-regular communication, then he would have been completely crushed, despite knowing he couldn't expect his son to really care.

"No, I'm afraid not. When you were red-flagged for trying to find him again, it came to my attention since you'd already been…warned. I discovered you were dying. I also intercepted a letter you son David sent to John just a few days ago, letting him know he didn't think you had long. He sent it to Peterson. I'm going to send it on the Daedalus with the rest of the mail on the next run, but I'm afraid that it might be too late, which is why I came instead. It won't be long before there's another scheduled gate activation for people to come through, but it might be just long enough…to be too late. I've…seen your medical charts," he explained.

Patrick stared at him, surprised. "I'm grateful that you came, but I have to admit, I don't understand why. Do you…do this for all the men and women under your command?"

O'Neill sighed heavily and shifted in the seat, looking uncomfortable for the first time, his eyes darting around for a moment before locking with Patrick's.

"After Colonel Sheppard came back for Director Woolsey and me, I…cornered him before I left Atlantis and told him that if he kept on going through life like he had something to prove, life wasn't going to last long." Here, O'Neill paused as if he knew exactly what he was talking about from experience. "He started to launch into this speech about his duty to country and to the Air Force…but then he surprised me and told me that Atlantis was worth fighting for because it was his home – and he was happy and truly successful there in a way he'd never felt before." Jack looked embarrassed at sharing something so personal that a man he respected had shared in confidence. "He told me he didn't have much left on Earth – that he'd had a failed marriage and that he'd badly disappointed his father and brother. I was surprised – I'd always assumed he had no family – especially with the way he was always throwing his life into the line of fire for others. He seemed…very sad," Jack admitted quietly, as if he was doing something terribly taboo. "So, when I saw you were trying to find him and realized you were dying… I had to come here myself to see exactly what would have driven him to go all the way to another universe to finally feel at home. He clearly felt he'd done something terrible – I admit, I wanted to know what it was." Unspoken were the words that the General strictly couldn't believe that John Sheppard was capable of having done anything so terrible to have deserved to be ostracized from his family.

Patrick was caught off guard. He stared at the silver-haired general in surprise. "John didn't do anything - at least no more than most teenagers and young men do. It was me….all me," he admitted sadly. "I had a dream for my sons and John – well – he wasn't happy with my dream, and for a long time, I didn't understand why – or, wouldn't understand why." He took a deep breath. "In fact, until you got here today I didn't understand it." The confession was hard, and he wasn't sure how he was even able to say it out loud, but the General held his gaze without condemnation. "I drove him away – my little boy. I cursed him out of this house and didn't even stop to consider what was best for him. I see now how wrong I was and I see just what a great man he's become. I…couldn't see before. I…didn't know he saved lives or that he…" Patrick trailed off. He hadn't realized that John was a modern day hero that many little boys dreamed they could be. John was what action movies were made of. "It was all my fault," he echoed again. "If he acts as though his life is worth less than others, it's because of me."

General O'Neill was silent after his confession. "I hope you aren't offended by this, but I kinda figured you might say that. I…had a rocky relationship with my father too – and when he was dying, we finally cleared the air. I spent years thinking I wasn't good enough…" Jack trailed off after showing his soul to a man he barely knew. "I could see it in John Sheppard's eyes that he felt the same way. But I was glad my dad and I got the chance. When I realized that you probably wouldn't make it until the time that John could return to Earth… I thought you might want to know a little about your son. Because he's never struck me as the kind to want to disappoint anyone. And I was hoping to be able to soften the blow for him. To give him clarity when the time comes." Patrick couldn't speak for a moment. His throat was tight with emotion. The man in front of him clearly had a deep attachment and respect for John.

The General didn't absolve him of his crimes against his child, but he did give Patrick a gift – a window into the life of a child he'd basically lost. As much as it hurt to know that someone else, let alone a commanding officer who had to keep a certain distance from one's subordinates knew his son better than he did, he was grateful that John was not alone – that someone was looking out for him. And his son, although far from safe, seemed happy and successful enough, and Patrick realized that had to be enough for him.

Jack O'Neill didn't stay long after that, just promised that if he could get John home any sooner, he would, though they both knew that Patrick shouldn't hold out hope. He saw himself out and when David came up the stairs, fear and anxiousness in his eyes, wondering what the visit had been about, Patrick did as he promised the government – he lied. He told David that the General had come to warn him again that he shouldn't be looking for John – but that at least he'd been told John was happy where he was, even if he couldn't come home and couldn't receive any communication from the outside world.

Dave had looked bitter and had said a few choice words about how John should stop playing soldier and come home, but Patrick just sighed.

"David, the General was very clear – he doesn't know what's happening – he's in a place where he can't receive information. You can't tame a wild horse – and maybe you shouldn't try. I should know," he told his oldest. David looked at him like he'd lost his mind and went to get his father his medication.

Patrick sagged back against the pillows, and the familiar feeling of his body turning against him assaulted his senses, but this time, he didn't feel so desperate about it. While not at peace and still wishing he could make amends with John, he did have a sense of fulfillment for finally understanding John a little better and knowing that his son would most likely be ok. He took the time to write John a letter. His hands shook and the writing was crooked, but page after page, he tried to give John what he'd been denied. He sealed the letter and wrote John's name on it for the last time. He knew Dave would be surprised, shocked even – but he also knew that eventually, John would have the letter. Then he put the pen down and closed his eyes, trying to picture his son – the last image in his mind John in his graduation picture from the Air Force Academy.

In the morning, David Sheppard found that his father had passed away in his sleep, clutching an old family photo, where a mom, a dad and two brothers, arms wrapped tightly around each other smiled into the camera.


End file.
